


Back on Dry Land

by indigo_illusion



Series: A Vampire Novel and a Positive Attitude (or The Exceptional Crook & Cow Girl Wench) [4]
Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-21 20:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12465648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_illusion/pseuds/indigo_illusion
Summary: After the events of 'Return of the Wench' Duke rescues Julia from a potentially stressful evening with the Uncles Teagues and takes her for some 'prescribed' libations and catch-up.





	1. As the Doctor Prescribes

 

"Are you going to be okay?" Audrey asks Julia as we watch the ambulance load up. She gives a vague nod, sticking close to me. I keep my arm around her shoulders.

"We'll make sure she's okay," Vince remarks.

"You have some place to go?" Audrey asks to those of us gathered on the dock in general.

"I'll make sure she gets home," I say.

Julia looks over at me curiously. Satisfied, Audrey leaves. She'll have to wait for her gift, but it's just as well. I don't want to get into all that now.

"Where exactly are you proposing to take me?" Julia looks up at me.

"She can come to our place," Dave says, "We have room."

I'm sure that's just what she needs, "I imagine you have an evening edition to rattle off," I point out, "and I think the doctor would prescribe a stiff drink and I happen to know where the best stocked medicine cabinet in Haven is."

Vince gives me the evilest of looks as I move my arm more comfortably around Julia's shoulders and steer in the appropriate direction to lead her off.

"A drink would be good," Julia agrees, "or three...or ten."

"Around people or not?"

"Sorry?"

We're walking down the docks and practically within spitting distance of the Gull and the _Cape_ given we didn't berth too far down when we came back from Death Island.

"Around people," I point to the Gull, "or not." I nod my head to the _Cape Rouge_.

"You still have her."

I give a snort and a smirk, "Really, wee lass? She'd have to break apart and spread to the four oceans before we'd be parted. I think you'd know that."

"My apologies, Boss," she puts a hand to her heart, "There's been a lot of odd things this weekend." That’s the understatement of the millennium.

"Apology accepted. I'm not sure if _she_ will though."

"Well, then. We'll just have to drink on board and see if I can make it up to her."

"On board it is, then." I take her hand and lead her up on to the deck, "We're not quite as well stocked as the Gull, but it is higher quality."

"An excellent choice then," she remarks, as I unlock the door and lead her inside. She looks around surveying the state room and the galley area, "You _both_ seemed to have cleaned up a little bit."

"Pssh." I protest and pull two glasses from the little section on the counter I always keep some in and then open what amounts to the liquor cabinet, "Pick your poison."

She comes over, and surveys the bottles, and points to the middle whiskey which I picked up from a trader in Newfoundland, though it actually comes from Scotland.

"Excellent choice," I tell her, "Very smooth," I pour some into each glass, and hand her one, "To Eleanor."

"Yes," Julia says, and we clink glasses and drain them. She takes the bottle from the sideboard where I'd set it. I take the second from the cabinet, given her comment about "or ten" and follow her back above decks where she's standing looking up at the darkening sky, "You ever think you'd be back here?" she asks.

"It seemed sort of inevitable."

"Yeah," she agrees.

She sits down on a box avoiding the red bench she painted so long ago and fills her glass again, offering the bottle towards me, as I sit nearby, she fills my glass. I set the other bottle down by my feet. For a moment there's just the sound of water against the side of the boat and the floats clinking against the sides.

She drains half her glass, seems like she's going to say something as she's toying with the rim of it turning it around in her hands. I wait for her to speak, not pressing. She drains the glass the rest of the way and refills it. I haven't done much with mine so I don't take a top up.

"I feel..." she starts, and then looks across the bay back towards the island, "...things weren't..."

I move slightly closer and take her fidgety hand, "Situations with parents aren’t always the greatest." I stop short of saying ‘look at mine’.

She looks back towards me her eyes tearful but angry too, "She _wasn't_ my mother." Each word is clipped with pain that is decades old. There is no more gap between us. I put my arm back around her as it's all that can be done for now. Somewhere someone should pay for causing this.

She shakes her head, "I've known since I was little, but I couldn't say. I wasn't Allowed. It's ridiculous bullshit but that's Haven for you. Here you are, Julia. This is your new Mommy. We won't tell you who your real parents are."

She's shaking.

I take the glass from her hand and set it down, and wrap my arms more tightly around her, "Who?"

"I can't..." she makes a growly noise, "There are people In Charge, you know? They know things—about the Troubles."

"Oh, of course."

"My family. My _real_ family has one, but I don't get to know what that is either. Just whoever it was had it died, so I have to be back here now. I had to get back as quick as I could, and now here I am. It's probably why the Brothers Teagues wanted me to come back with them."

"Oh?" I say, "Is it now?"

"Duke..." she puts her hand on my arm, "I know that tone."

"I'm not going to do anything right now."

"Just don't...everything with the Troubles is fucked up, besides _what_ brought _you_ back here?" She leans back against my shoulder. I kiss the top of her head.

"She did," I tap the closest part of the _Cape_ I can reach.

Julia smacks my arm, "I know you have to have come through here trading every once in a while when I was gone but why didn't you move on again this time? Off to...Barbados or something?"

I try to affect a shrug.

She turns around in my arms and gets nose to nose with me, "Duke Crocker! I told you mine. You tell me yours."

I exhale slowly, and shift her around so I can pour another drink. She picks her glass up and offers it up as I'm pouring and we adjust ourselves so that she's laying back on my chest and I'm propped against the side, now, supporting us both and can drink without anyone choking.

"So?" she says, after I've drained my glass and poured another.

"It's at _least_ a year that I came back on an errand. I ran into Nathan we got talking I invite him out on the boat, come along with, fish, catch up, talk, you know? It was stupid, because once we run into the pick up people he assumes I only invited him along because he was a cop now and could have smoothed things over with the coast guard. Like I don't have a pet coast guard,” I shake my head, “I suppose I should be glad he waited until after everything was done to...get all accusatory. So, we get into a huge fight, literal knock down drag out—boy has some anger issues,” putting it mildly but we always had history, “but then he just stopped right after this one punch—I hit him in the side of the jaw," I put my fist gently against her face, "To be honest I'd been afraid to stop. I thought he might just plow on and kill me. He was...that mad. He stopped being able to feel, again, apparently. Who knows for how long during the fight, and only just realized, and—I mean—what can I say to him? I tried—and I tried to help him—I mean it took him a little bit to find his feet, get off the boat, but he wouldn’t have it; and I mean, what can I say to him right then?"

"You stayed because of Nathan?"


	2. Shiftless Pirate vs Evil Wench

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chit chat, drinking and commiserations.

I snort, "If his Trouble was back how many more? And I...my Dad...when I was a kid before the Troubles ended last time, there's this one time his beaten and bloody ass actually wound up in the hospital. He said something happened on his boat—but no; and I mean, you can't always be patched up by a seven year old." I snort. She tops up my glass, "and I'm in there talking to him. I think Mom was off trying to talk one of the nurses out of barbiturates, and he tells me—he gets all serious and he calls me up to his bedside, and he says that after the Troubles end when they come back I need to be in Haven. He makes me promise, swear on his life, on my life, but before he can tell me why...he dies. He may have been an asshole."

"To put it mildly," Julia says.

We clink glasses, "but I swore and on his death bed, and the way he was—it seemed really important, not just his usual bullshit."

"No explanation at all?"

"None."

"Nothing from your Mom?"

I have to laugh. I pour us both another drink, "Hm. No. Nothing from my Mom, but she could barely find her tits some times let alone reveal family secrets."

"So, what have you been up to otherwise?" she asks.

"Hm-mm," I shake my head, "It's your turn again."

She shifts her position slightly, popping her neck, "Can we sit some place else?"

"Excellent deflect, Miss...Julia." Eleanor’s not her mother. Carr might be a sore subject right now. I move my arms and she stands up, popping several parts of her body.

"No," she says, "No...I'll talk. I just...it's not. I mean, you're comfy, but that's not. I'm not saying anything bad about you," she leans down and pats the deck of the _Cape_ , "Just the box. It's a bad box."

I have to laugh a little, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I didn't think it had quite hit me until I moved," she admits, "That's good stuff."

"It is," I drain the last little bit from the open bottle, and pick up the still sealed one, "but come into the state room. The couch is comfy, and it's not going to get chilly like it will out here. The boiler should have kicked on by now." I guide her back through the door and below decks and sit her on the couch.

I'm checking what's in the galley when I hear her plop her arms down on the counter, "You're being rude," she says, "You left your guest."

"I'm sorry. I was looking for refreshments. It's also rude not to feed your guest and much as I'd like to abuse my owner privileges and order delivery from The Gull. I think they’re closed by now."

"Owner privileges?" she cocks an eye at me.

"Ah, damn it. You're supposed to telling stuff about you right now."

"That's okay. My head's getting muzzy."

"Which is why I was looking at what I had that I could either just put out, or whip something up quickly." I grab a bottle from the fridge, "In the mean time have some juice, but do not mix it with the whiskey."

"I would not dare. Who do you think I am?"

"Just making sure. You can never be too careful these days."

She pours the orange liquid into a mug after I extract it from the clip hook on the wall, "So, what's this about The Gull?"

"Mmm," I close the fridge again, and open one of the higher cabinets. Sweet potato chips it is, "Do you remember the McShaws?"

"I...maybe?"

"Bill and Geoff?"

"Oh, yeah, I think...wasn't that the camping? and the duck?"

"One of the times, yeah. Well, they'd gone in on this place. They were calling it Second Chance Bistro, but there was this whole mess..." We'll just skip over all the Troubles part of that, "I wound up inheriting the building, after a fashion."

"After a fashion?"

"I used to bring them boxes of things which I would give them a price on. We would haggle before they saw the contents. Bill hit me with a box, told me he would take $20 no more, no less. Turned out to be the deed."

"For the whole building?"

I nod, "Yeah...he _really_ didn't want to be in the restaurant business any more, wants to be a carpenter. Naturally, I throw him a lot of work..."

"And Geoff?"

I take a deep breath "Geoff is dead."

"Oh. Shit," she pours herself another glass of juice.

I fill a jug of water and follow her back towards the couch, watching carefully to make sure she's steady and stable.

"I'm guessing there was a Trouble involved?" should have realized she’d sort that out even if she is ‘muzzy’.

"In his death?"

She nods.

"No, not really. There was a Trouble in the vicinity of things, but...just some crazy jilted bitch sous chef with Geoff, actually." I shake my head, "And now I'm practically respectable. I have to work twice as hard to uphold my villainous reputation. It's a nightmare."

She laughs.

"Now," I point at her, "You owe me two tales, at least. What wondrous things have you been up to?"

She pouts, "I wasn't gone nearly as long as you. I don't have time to come up with stories."

"Deflection and lies," I counter, opening the chips and offering them towards her, "possibly even just angling for sympathy which is evil because I will succumb to that weakness."

She shifts a little on the couch, cradling the mug of juice between both her hands, and turns big eyes towards me. I'm expecting her to continue a joking plea against telling tales, tall, short or any kind but instead, "Can I stay here tonight?" is much more serious than I expected, "The only other place I have to go is my mother's house...and I forgot to get the keys..."

The mother who is not the mother.

"Who would I be to turn away a lady in need?" I remark.

"A shiftless pirate?" she quips.

"I don't think that's quite right for what they say about me, and I suppose for what they say about me I wouldn't be turning you away either," and we're going to, no. Now is not the time for confessing _those_ sort of things. Her not-mother just died. 

"What was that look?" she asks.

"You're deflecting again," I point out, "That's what I'm supposed to be good at. You've got me working over time. I'm going to run out of brain and then where will you be?" I'm honestly surprised my brain is still working as it is considering my brilliant idea to not sleep after closing The Gull this—yesterday? morning and just meeting Audrey to take her to The Knot because it was just going to be an easy relaxing weekend and there'd be plenty of time to chill and sleep after we arrived. Adrenaline will do that, I suppose.

"I'd have your boat."

"Evil Wench."

"Evil Wench Pirate King!" she declares, "For I would have outwitted Duke Crocker on his own boat, no less."

"Fair enough. Still, give me one story of the travels of fair Julia. I'm interested to hear."

She thinks for a moment, "I might need the whiskey back."

I unscrew the cap and slide it across the table towards her, moving closer again. If this is something that needs out. It needs out.

She reaches towards the bottle but then doesn't take it, "Not long after I left town...I...shot someone."

 


	3. Confession is Good for the Soul; but Secret Love is Torture.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wench gets some things off her chest; but someone is uncharacteristically chaste.

I search her face. I didn’t think she would be trying to wind me up with it, but there was some hope, also that it would be ‘with a pop gun’ or ‘tons of photographs’ or something; but this is not a night for those sort of jokes.

"He was middle-aged, going flabby, bald on the top but light blonde hair on the sides, and had dark blue eyes. I could see his eyes, Duke." I close the distance between us again, pouring her the glass of whiskey for when she's ready, "when I shot him. He was—he was so close."

I take the hand that she was reaching out with and squeeze it gently, "You weren't safe though. If he had gotten to you?"

She shakes her head sadly, "He was..." she doesn't finish the sentence and looks away from me.

I pull her to me and hug her. Her head is resting against my shoulder, so close, "I don't think it's quite the way you say, but words...they aren't always easy. It feels like you wouldn't be here if you hadn't done that."

"I shot him in the face."

"That's good aim, then." I try, looking down at her, didn't quite work the way I hoped.

"In the face, Duke!" she retorts, "He was all," she mimes walking in a really strange way, almost robot stiff, "and the things..." she shakes her head, "and his teeth,” my head is crawling away from the fact that Troubles exist out in the world even when they don't in Haven. That screaming and the car, in the dark in the Bayou. There are more fun out in the world Troubles—but...it’s a very death-filled weekend at this point.

"You did the right thing then. The correct thing so that you survived the situation and others? did too."

She shudders and stays there against me. I can feel her carefully sipping at the whiskey in the glass, "Tell me something," she says, after a while, "Tell me something else. I think that counts for at least four stories."

"I see your wicked plot now," I tease, softly, "Try to throw me with a bombshell and get out of talking for the rest of the night."

"Well, do you have any bombshells?" she asks.

"Me owning a respectable restaurant and settling in Haven isn't enough of a bombshell for you?" so not getting into Jean right now. Too much.

She laughs, softly and pulls herself up more on the couch, shoes dropping onto the floor and cuddling closer to me, nestling her head further into my chest, "On the one hand Mom's not going to be giving me the third degree about hanging out with the despicable Crocker boy, again."

"There was a reason I never let you stay over night on the boat back then."

"You were always a perfect gentleman."

"You think the town would have believed that?"

She giggles slightly, "Oh, man. They'd have been here with torches and pitch forks to rescue the poor wee lass from the terrible gypsy boy and then they'd have sunk you."

"See, it was entirely self preservation."

"Oh, nothing to do with protecting my honor?"

"That might have been a side benefit, I suppose."

She smacks me again. I rub my chest.

"That's what you get," she says, snuggling her way back down again.

"Have you been working out? I think you've gotten stronger over the years."

"It _has_ been years, Crocker. Though you have nothing to complain about I hurt my hand on you." She stretches her fingers, experimentally.

"How terrible for you," I say with fake sarcasm, taking her hand and examining it, and then massaging the fingers.

"The town seems to like you better now."

"I bribe them with alcohol. They love me. I mean it's not like there isn't another bar, but it's smaller and has much crappier views, crappier food and less cute staff."

"Less cute owner too, I'm sure."

"You don't need to butter me up. I already said you could stay over."

She laughs, "I want to make sure I get to eat too. I'm not on the pay roll any more."

I smile, "Generally the polite thing _is_ bed _and_ breakfast, and I am a gentleman, despite what the town thinks, or to spite them. Well, mostly. Generally. Some of the time." I would wink, but she's facing the wrong way.

"When you like someone and they treat you with respect."

"I forget you are in on my rules."

"That's very silly of you."

"Well, I am also very silly."

"Yes," she yawns, snuggling her head against me again, "Yes. You are."

We stay like that for a while as I listen to her breathing. I hum softly one of the songs I remember we used to sing together while working on the _Cape_ years ago before I realize if we're in that position much longer I'll lose feeling in one arm and not be able to get her into bed in the spare room that was essentially hers anyway except that she never actually lived on board. I shift carefully so I can pick her up and carry her in there. There are really only pillows and a mattress pad on the bed, but I need to get a comforter after I lay her down. Comforter acquired I go back in and lay it down, put her in one of my old t-shirts and a pair of shorts over her panties because I'm not in the mood to crack the lock on her suitcase, and cover her up. She looks so cute and fragile I can't help but ruffle her hair and kiss her on the head.

As I cross the state room to my own cabin I can't help but remember how much I owe her from her time on the _Cape_ over a decade ago. I don't know if I would have made it through and it still confuses me some times why she stuck with me. I can't think of any one else I've known—who wasn’t getting trade benefits or mostly business. Even Bill and Geoff I don’t know if I could have properly counted on the same way.

Maybe things are looking up in Haven?

 

$$$$

 

Omelets with spinach, tomatoes and provolone are cooking when Julia emerges from the bedroom in jeans and a t-shirt of her own carrying my shirt. I hadn't thought to leave her water and pain killers in the bedroom last night so I had put it the bottle on the table and take her a drink now. She's a little slow to move, but she sits down and gives me a vague smile.

"How are you doing?"

"Not so bad. Thanks for letting me stay."

"No problem.” I plate the omelet and put some buttered toast with it, and set it down, “See, I promised I'd feed you."

"That you did."

"I have some coffee on too." I nod towards the pot.

"Excellent," she says, sniffing the air, "I thought I smelled Kona."

"Brilliant nose."

I pour two mugs of coffee, and set them down on the table, and then get my own plate and sit down. She's already working on her eggs.

"Thank you," she says.

"You already said that."

"This is for the food."

"Okay, but you don't have to," I give her a wide smile, "It's the duty of the host to provide both bed _and_ breakfast, right? Or you can make me walk the plank."

"Stop," she laughs, though.

"No? I thought you wanted to steal the boat?"

"That's just ridiculous. I'd come up with something a lot more devious."

"Ridiculous? Not silly?"

"Silly?" she looks, not exactly confused for a moment, but there’s something there, and pauses with hand grasped on coffee but not actually picking it up.

I look at her over my own mug, "Yes. Last night you were full of words like "silly". You're a funny drunk."

She looks horrified, "Do I _want_ to ask what else I said?" she's clearly reviewing things in her head.

"Hmmm..." I draw it out, pondering towards the wall. She tries to kick me under the table but mostly just rattles the dishes, "Careful now. If you spill the coffee then _you'll_ have to walk the plank."

She makes a growly noise at me.

"Alright. Alright. Nothing too bad, really. It _was_ great when you started telling off the boxes on the deck, though."

She's blushing an adorable shade of pink moving towards red.

"I tell you _Cape_ does appreciate you clarifying that it was only the boxes that you were mad at and not her though. The apology and petting might have been a bit unnecessary, but she'll keep it just between you girls, and well, me, of course."

She hides her face behind the coffee cup, "Now you're just making fun!"

I laugh, completely unrepentant.

She sticks her tongue out at me over the top of the cup, still bright red, and drains the coffee with a dark and serious glare towards me. I think I see the faintest twinkle in there though, as I scoop eggs onto the toast and eat them maintaining the smirk and smile.

"Fine," she says, "I see how it is. I'm going to go get my house keys! And—and see what Vince and Dave want!" she stands up imperiously, but then some vulnerability comes back into her expression, and I’m confused for a moment until she says, "I can come back tonight, can't I?" she finishes in a small voice. It takes me back to when she was sixteen and I was nineteen and she was asking to come watch me work.

"I think I might get pitched off by my own boat if I said no," I joke to cover for myself.

She wraps me in a quick but deep hug before running above deck and leaving.

What have you gotten yourself into, Crocker?


End file.
